


Sharp

by silentdescant



Series: Snapshots [14]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Blow Jobs, Edgeplay, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Mitch sounds so sweet, so light and pleasant when he asks, “Will you hold still for me?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> KINKtober Day 10: Edgeplay

Mitch sounds so sweet, so light and pleasant when he asks, “Will you hold still for me?” It’s almost as if he isn’t holding a knife, like there isn’t a sultry gleam in his dark eyes. Like Scott isn’t spread out naked on their bed, taking very shallow breaths.

“Why did I agree to this?” he mutters.

“Because you love me.”

He’s right, Scott does. He loves Mitch a truly painful amount. He loves Mitch enough to indulge him in these ideas, these things Mitch always wants to try. Scott usually ends up enjoying himself, too, which is a nice bonus, but he does it so he can see Mitch brimming with pleasure, grateful and sweet and satisfied. Scott gets off on Mitch being happy; it’s as simple as that.

Scott isn’t tied down. Mitch didn’t ask, and Scott wasn’t about to suggest it, but now he half-wishes there were ropes holding him in place. Keeping him from moving accidentally. But that’s not what this is about, at least according to Mitch.

“Will you hold still for me?” Mitch asks again. He meets Scott’s eyes, and though he’s smiling, Scott can see that he’s being serious too. He’s asking.

“Yes,” Scott replies. “Always.”

Mitch lowers his voice to a whisper and asks, “Do you trust me?”

Suddenly the room feels very quiet, the air very thick. Scott licks his lips and answers, “Yes, of course.”

Mitch’s smile widens for a brief moment, then he schools his face into a serious expression, one of intense concentration. Scott’s grateful for that. He does trust Mitch, but he can taste the bitter adrenaline coursing through his body.

The top of the knife rests against Scott’s abs, halfway between his sternum and his belly button. Mitch slowly turns the blade on its side, flattens it against Scott’s skin. It’s not digging in at all, but Scott’s afraid to breathe. His biceps tense with the effort of keeping his arms outstretched and still.

“You trust me,” Mitch murmurs, “not to hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“What if I…”

He slides the knife down, down, fits the sharp blade to the line of Scott’s hip. It’s pressing firmly against his skin and Scott’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, tasting words he can’t expel.

“What if I did?” Mitch asks. “What if I cut you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Scott answers.

Mitch turns the knife upside down again, so the blunt rim and the sharp point drag against his skin as he moves it back to the center of Scott’s torso. Scott’s cock is thick and flushed, and it jumps to attention when Mitch’s wrist brushes it.

Scott’s cheeks flush. His cock has a mind of its own, clearly.

“Wouldn’t I?” Mitch asks. He bends low to scrape his stubbly chin across Scott’s thigh. It tickles, but Scott can’t move, _he can’t move_ , and his body aches with the strain of keeping still.

“You wouldn’t,” Scott says again. He’s a little bit breathless now, lightheaded from the frantic pace of his heart. He knows, in his mind, that Mitch wouldn’t hurt him, would never hurt him, but it’s a mindfuck to look down and see Mitch’s wickedly smug expression, his fingers expertly manipulating the handle of a kitchen knife. He knows Mitch wouldn’t hurt him, but… But maybe he would.

His cock drips precome into a little puddle on his skin. Mitch dips two fingers in it and brings them to his mouth. He sucks his fingers in to the knuckle and slowly draws them out. They’re glistening with saliva and Mitch leaves his fingertips resting on his lower lip.

“Jesus Christ,” Scott groans. He doesn’t understand why he’s so turned on; it can’t just be Mitch’s face in the vicinity of his cock. Something about this fucked up situation is working for him, and that realization might be more terrifying than the situation itself.

“Hold still for me,” Mitch urges, then fluidly leans up and takes Scott’s cock into his mouth. He rests his right hand on Scott’s stomach, pressing firmly to keep Scott from thrusting, but his left—

Mitch’s knife twirls in place. The sharp point digs into soft flesh and Scott’s pretty sure he’s being stabbed, but now he doesn’t care. Mitch’s lips around his cock are enough of a distraction, and Scott’s eyes eventually flutter closed. It’s too overwhelming to watch, and the sensation of the knife touching him fades to the background, drowned out by Mitch’s tongue swirling around the head of his leaking cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a few moments. “I’m gonna come, Mitchy, I’m gonna…”

The knife slides up to Scott’s sternum. His heart is pounding; he thinks it might break right through his ribcage and present itself as an awfully easy target for Mitch and that fucking knife. Scott closes his eyes again, internally scoffing. As if Mitch doesn’t already own his heart.

The dulled top of the blade caresses Scott’s nipple and Scott’s hips thrust up of their own accord. His hands are clenched into fists around whatever he can grab. A pillow in one hand and what feels like a stuffed animal in the other. He’s so close to coming his body feels like it’s vibrating.

Mitch flips the knife around and presses the sharpened edge to Scott’s pec. He’s so close to Scott’s nipple, and when Scott’s eyes fly open he sees Mitch staring right back at him, even as he bobs his head and takes Scott’s cock all the way to the back of his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Scott says, his voice strangled. He reaches for Mitch’s head automatically, giving up on the handfuls of pillows and toys. He pushes Mitch down— _he’s so close, he’s so close_ —and his brain stutters to a halt, allowing only a wordless gasp to escape Scott’s lips.

He comes down Mitch’s throat and Mitch doesn’t seem to mind, moaning through it as best he can with Scott forcing his head down. Mitch wrings him dry, sucking him to the point of overstimulation before backing off and sitting upright.

Scott’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, and though Mitch isn’t digging the point of the blade into his skin, Scott is still extremely aware of it’s presence on his chest. Mitch still holds the handle delicately, like it’s a precision tool.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his free hand and makes a face down at Scott, one eyebrow arched in an expression of clear disappointment. “You weren’t very obedient,” he says.

“It was hard,” Scott whines. He licks his lips and pouts, hoping Mitch will take pity on him.

“You liked it, though,” Mitch says after a beat. It’s phrased like a statement, but Scott can hear the subtle question in his tone.

Scott can’t deny it. It was scary and strange and he’s not sure if he’s actually into it, but he can’t deny that he got off on Mitch holding a knife to his skin. He nods.

“So we can try it again sometime?” Mitch asks.

They both know Scott’s going to say yes, but Scott pretends to consider it for a moment. He finally answers with a grin. “Maybe I’ll try it on you next time.”

Mitch’s flushed lips stretch into a smile. He puts the knife on the bedside table and crawls up into Scott’s arms.

“I’m not bleeding anywhere, am I?” Scott asks.

“No, I was careful.” Mitch gives him a kiss, a playful peck on the lips before making himself comfortable on the bed tucked under Scott’s arm. “This time, anyway.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna kill me one day,” he mutters. But he can’t say he minds. He trusts Mitch with his heart and now with his life. If Mitch does hurt him, well. Scott’s pretty sure he would ask for more.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
